


What Doesn't Kill You Really Should Have

by MajorGodComplex



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Gen, LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, Mentioned Caleb/Adam, Secret Santa, Slightly Suspicious Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 06:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13161105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorGodComplex/pseuds/MajorGodComplex
Summary: The Fic Where Caleb Kills Damien (and isn't doing okay).





	What Doesn't Kill You Really Should Have

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Turq8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turq8/gifts).



> This fic is for the Secret Santa exchange! Merry Christmas, I'm sorry.

“Caleb.” Doctor Bright rose from her seat when he walked into the room, “I thought you weren’t--”

“My parents don’t know I’m here,” He said quickly, walking in and shutting the door behind him. 

She looked at him, considering turning him away altogether. His parents had been very clear about not wanting, nor needing, any more of her ‘help’ in regards to Caleb’s mental health. Joan was want to agree. It wasn’t healthy for him to be back here. 

“I thought you were seeing someone new. I referred your parents to several well respected therapists in the area, if you--”

“They don’t understand. Things are so fucking complicated right now, and I can’t even tell them about half the shit going on with me. What do any of you expect me to tell them? Hey, I’m Caleb, I committed a fucking  _ murder _ \--” He stopped, as if stunned by his own words. It couldn’t have been the first time he’d thought it, but she thought perhaps it was the first time he’d said the words out loud.

He looked horrible. 

“Please, Doctor Bright, can’t you at least talk to me...as a friend?” 

She couldn’t turn him away.

“Take a seat,” She exhaled, and sat down across from him. 

He launched into his troubles almost immediately. Joan didn’t mind. In fact, it only served to make her job even easier. 

“Ever since I lost control in the safe house, I’ve been out of control in  _ everything _ . Anytime I’m around people, even a few people, it’s too much. There were times, especially when I first started noticing Adam and I found opportunities to help him get better, that I could finally start to see why my ability might be a gift. Now? I can’t think of a single reason why I should be grateful I have it. I just want to be normal. Everytime I close my eyes I feel like I can see him; I can feel almost feel all of that anger pulsing through me again, and I can hear everyone’s screams and…” He stopped, realizing he was getting himself worked up again. He looked at the ground, and took a few slow breaths. Even that was an improvement, even if he couldn’t see it in himself. 

“Why are you proud of me?” He suddenly said, looking up at her. “I’m a monster. I  _ killed someone _ . You shouldn’t be proud of me for that.” 

“You’re not a monster,” She replied, “And I’m not proud of you for killing Damien, even though I know you only did it in defense of everyone else. I was proud of you for taking a moment to collect yourself. I know you have been feeling like you are losing control in everything, but I don’t think you can see how far you’ve already come.” 

“Oh…” Caleb averted his eyes, looking at the clock, and the table, and anything else but at her.

“Let’s talk about the funeral,” She said, after allowing him a few moments of silence. She could tell he wanted to talk about it, but she knew he would never bring it up. 

“Do I have to?” Caleb asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I think it would be good for you, yes.”

“Well what about the funeral?” He asked, sounding a bit angry.

“You were there.”

“Yeah? Well so were you.”

“I had reason to be,” She crossed her legs. 

He stiffened, “And I didn’t?”

“Did you?” 

“I thought it would bring me closure, or whatever.”

“And did it?” She asked, leaning forward a bit in her chair. 

There was a beat. 

“No,” He let out a long sigh, “No, it didn’t. I thought...I don’t know, I thought maybe I would feel something? But it wasn’t as if there were a lot of people there for me to feel the emotions of anyway. You saw it, there were only five people there, us included. It was pathetic. The only thing it made me feel is terrified that my funeral might be the same way someday, and I’m pretty sure that emotion came from myself.” 

Joan was oddly quiet, but leaned back again, unsure of whether or not she should say too much, even if it would comfort him. It probably wasn’t a unique feeling to have at a funeral. Besides, Caleb surely knew well enough by now which emotions were his and which came from other people. 

Instead, she asked. “What  _ did  _ you feel from other people?” 

“Happiness, mostly. And guilt about that happiness. But mostly relief.” He faltered. “Except for…” He trailed off, and got silent for a second, as if weighing whether or not to say the thought he’d just had. 

“Except for what, Caleb?” 

He still looked hesitant to answer, but Joan’s curious glance and his need to get it off of his chest won out in the end. “Except for Mark.” 

Joan’s expression changed entirely, cool demeanor falling for a split second and transforming for a brief moment into disappointment. She was back together immediately after. 

“See,” He said, running his fingers through his hair and moving uncomfortably in his seat. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you. Now you’re upset. I shouldn’t have even been feeling his emotions anyway, but I’m sure he was feeling mine too and it’s not like that was too great of a time either--”

“What did he feel?” She asked. Caleb grit his teeth and shook his head. “It’s okay, you can tell me.” 

“He felt sad. Disappointed. I think...I think he still hoped there was a chance Damien would get better. Stop being evil or some shit like that. I left shortly after. There were only four other people there but it still felt like too many.”

“I’m surprised your parents let you go. I meant to ask you about it, but you disappeared.” 

“My parents didn’t know. They haven’t really liked me being out of the house in general. They’ve been talking about pulling me out of school. Homeschooling me for the rest of my senior year instead, or something. They say it’s for my sake, because they’re afraid of me being overstimulated with too many emotions, but it’s because they’re afraid. They won’t say it to my face, but they’re afraid I’ll do it again, that I’ll lose control again, and it fucking  _ terrifies  _ them.” 

Joan said nothing, knowing he wasn’t done yet. 

“And Adam...I know he would never say as much, but he’s afraid of me. I can see it in his eyes when he talks to me and I can’t stand it. I did it to save him, and now he can’t look at me, and even though I understand why it’s just so fucking  _ unfair _ , you know? I didn’t...I didn’t  _ mean  _ to, and it wasn’t like I was the only one who wanted him dead.  _ Everyone  _ did, I was just the one who had to  _ do  _ something about it.”

“Adam needs time to deal with what happened just as much as you do.” 

“I know that. I do,” He said, “But I need someone right now, and it hurts that he can’t be that person. If I hadn’t lost control like that then--”

“You have to stop thinking about the things you could have done differently.”

“--None of this would have happened,” He continued, as if she hadn’t interrupted him at all. “Damien would still be alive and I could have let you guys handle it, and he’d probably be with the AM or something, and they’d be taking care of him or doing whatever the fuck it is they do, and I wouldn’t feel so fucking guilty all the time.” 

“Caleb, what happened wasn’t your fault.”

“Can you  _ stop _ !?” He suddenly yelled. 

Joan remained calm, cool, and collected. “Stop what. Caleb?”

“You know what. Stop pitying me. You  _ know  _ I hate that. I can’t  _ do  _ this if you’re just going to be sitting there feeling sorry for me all this time.”

“You’re the one who came to me,” She reminded him. “You wanted to see me. What else should I be feeling?”

“I don’t know!” He yelled, standing up to pace around the room. “You could be disappointed in me for losing control, or  _ angry  _ at me for murdering one of your patients, or-- or--  _ something _ !” 

“You didn’t murder Damien. Saying that word only leads to negative thought patterns. If you keep thinking of it as a murder, you will  _ never  _ be able to live with yourself.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to live with myself anyway, Doctor Bright.” He wasn’t angry anymore, just sad. He looked like he was about to cry, and it reminded her again how young he was. 

He was right. He would never recover from this, and  _ he  _ shouldn’t be the one feeling guilty. It was her fault, really. Caleb shouldn’t have even been involved in the first place, but she crossed way too many doctor/patient lines. 

“I think I should go,” He finally said, after a few more moments of silence. “You’re feeling too much, and I can’t take it. I need to be alone again.”

“I’m not sure it’s healthy for you to spend so much time alone. Be with your friends again, Caleb. Call Adam. Find time to do the things you love, but  _ don’t  _ spend the rest of your life locked up away from people because of this one incident.”

“Goodbye, Doctor Bright. My parents are probably worried about me by now. I’ve got to go.” 

“Caleb--”

He’d shut the door, leaving Joan alone again. 

She turned the recorder off. 


End file.
